


stuff or things, nothing between

by ghettoblasterz



Category: Merrily We Roll Along - Sondheim/Furth
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Bad Decisions, Bad Parenting, Coming Out, Daydreaming, Drabble, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Excessive Drinking, F/M, Flashbacks, Light Angst, M/M, Many apologies, Mild Smut, Miscarriage, One-Sided Attraction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, a lotta bad, just a mention tho no worries, mary sees something she wasn't supposed to, reminiscent of mind and body, so theres that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28251546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoblasterz/pseuds/ghettoblasterz
Summary: mary sees something she wasn't meant to, and now everyone's left picking up the pieces.a word of advice from charley; never underestimate the distance between your kitchen and your living room.god help the old friends and the mess they've gotten themselves into.
Relationships: Charley Kringas/Franklin Shepard, Mary Flynn/Franklin Shepard
Comments: 50
Kudos: 3





	1. the rift is formed

In the moments the Kringas children were off with the wife's parents, Mary noted that Charley and Evelyn hovered around each other like two north ends of a magnet.

Personally, she didn't understand it. Why stay married when there's clearly an irreparable rift between what you want and what you have?

She then supposed that's just marriage. Marriage wasn't her forte.

She sat across from Charley, perched on the sofa with her knees huddled to her chest. A glass of white wine rested in one hand. Usually, she preferred liquor, but didn't mind something a bit more refined in Evelyn's presence.

Charley opposed her on the arm chair. That's where he usually sat, leaving the couch against the wall between them bare. Nobody could linger around him on that personal island of his. He liked it that way.

They were holding a remarkably boring conversation about stuff or things (never both, Charley would remark. Too much clutter in a conversation makes for regrets and 'I-wish-I-had-saids'.) before Evelyn entered.

Evelyn Kringas. An enigma of a woman who shrouded her piercing gaze behind curls of brown hair. Unreadable. Just the way an overthinker such as Charley would be drawn to, Mary supposed.

She glanced at Mary for a moment, before stepping behind Charley and placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched. His fingers froze in mid air like they were stuck there.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I'm...Sorry." He retreated back against the chair, letting his muscles relax again. He didn't make eye contact with Mary. Instead, he focused on his hand resting on the arm.

"My mother called. They say Minnie threw a fit at the dinner table tonight."

"Well, did your folks provoke her?" Charley said. "Oh, don't look at me like that."

"You aren't even looking at me."

"I don't have to. I feel you staring into my skull."

"What does it matter if my parents  _ provoked  _ her? She's having outbursts."

Charley shot Mary a glance. "We're not doing this in front of Mary."

The latter held her tongue.

Evelyn withdrew her hand. "I just thought you should know,  _ Father of the Year _ . Your little tirades are inspiring our daughter, and I won't stand for it."

"Then do something!" Charley scoffed. "What am I supposed to do anyways? They're cooped up halfway across the state."

Evelyn glared at Mary.

_ What did I do??? _

She inhaled slowly, lowering her gaze back down to her husband. She'd probably kill him if she could. Mary bought it, at least. With a kitchen knife, while he was busy clacking away on that typewriter of his, perched like a sitting duck. If anybody could commit the murder, it would be Evelyn.

Or Frank, maybe. Maybe even herself.

Charley was just a very killable guy.

Evelyn said, "When the kids return, I expect you to say something about it. I know that's asking  _ so much  _ of you."

She turned and left, presumably heading to her bedroom for peace and quiet.

"Because it's always my fault, never yours. Right?" Charley called after her. 

But one of the remarkable things about Evelyn Kringas was that she never had to have the last word, unlike her husband; hence why their fights were quick and jagged, like a switchblade fight in a grocery store parking lot. She was just lucky she had a husband who found pleasure in constant quarrelling. Not many other men around would tolerate her stubbornness or her attitude.

Charley flashed Mary a phoney smile and turned back down to his hands, where he occupied himself with pushing in cuticles.

"Trouble in paradise?" Mary remarked, sipping her drink.

"There's no paradise for this dumpster fire. Never has been," Charley laughed, defeated. He pointed at himself, sending a tinge of pain straight to Mary's heart.

"You are  _ not _ a dumpster fire," Mary said quietly, as if they were hiding from Evelyn.

"Well, I'm something alright. A terrible father, that's for sure."

"Then why don't you do something about it?"

He shrugged. "I...I don't care enough, if I'm being honest. I provide for the girls and I tell 'em bedtime stories. I'm just as clueless as you when it comes to discipline. What's she want me to do, beat them?"

"I think she just wants you to be honest with  _ them _ ."

"It took me years to open up to you. God, I'll just open my fat mouth and unload my baggage onto my babies, won't I?" He paused, folding his arms. "You know, sometimes I wish she'd miscarried. I really, truly do."

"Charley Kringas!"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my girls, but...Fatherhood is not for me. I never even  _ thought _ it would be. I did it for Evelyn and, well...I just wish I hadn't, you know?"

Mary stared at him, wide-eyed. "I think you should give therapy another shot."

"Oh, come on. This can't be  _ that  _ obscene. Imagine how successful I'd be without the emotional weight of knowing I'm a shitty father and an even shittier husband looming over me every waking moment."

"Frank's married and has a kid, and he's doing fine."

The doorbell rang, jolting them from their sick daydream of a therapy session. Mary released the breath pent up in her lungs.

"Speak of the devil," Charley huffed. He stood up and hurried to the front door, swinging it open and letting himself fall against the doorframe. Frank stood behind the storm door.

He opened it with a sigh, roping Frank into his arms. "Thank  _ God  _ you're here."

Frank laughed. "Wow--Uh, is Mary still here?"

"Yeah. On the sofa."

Charley led Frank in and sat down on the couch, right in the middle. Frank assumed position beside him, resting on its arm. He didn't object when Charley leaned into his shoulder and huffed.

Oh.

Mary shifted her legs.

"Are we alright in here?" Frank said, sensing tension.

"Peachy," Mary nodded, after downing the rest of her wine. "How are you, pal?"

"Good. Sorry I was late, Frankie needed help with his homework."

"Sheesh, how hard could coloring be?" Mary giggled, shooing off Frank's glare.

Charley, unamused, mumbled, "And Beth was where?"

"On the phone with a friend," Frank said. He nudged Charley's head with his shoulder.

Mary pursed her lips. "Well, Charley and I were just having a lovely chat about--"

"--about stuff or things, nothing between. Like the weather. How are the roads, Frankie?" Charley asked.

"Uh, slick. This rain truly won't let up, will it?"

"Mm."

The room slipped into a coma as the hum under Charley's breath faded. He zoned out, staring ahead at the mantle--or rather, through it. Somewhere else that looped back into his own head.

Frank looked uncomfortable, but submitted to the silence.

Mary looked at them for a moment, watching Charley's chest rise and fall. Watching as he snaked his arm across himself to rest it on Frank's.

"I'm gonna get more wine," she said.

Charley blinked at her. "Uh, go ahead. You know where to find it."

She stood up and wandered to the kitchen, even though her legs felt numb and unlike her own.

She could hear Frank and Charley mumbling, as if she weren't in the room right over. Almost as if they wanted her to hear them, although only bits and pieces were clear.

"...I want to, I want to so very badly…" Charley muttered.

"Then do it, Charley. What's stopping you?"

"...it's gotten worse. I haven't even…"

"Oh, relax. What's it matter?"

"...I don't…"

He trailed off and became quiet. Mary shook her head and poured herself another generous serving of wine.

When she returned to the living room, she rounded the corner quietly enough that Frank and Charley hadn't heard her coming. 

She met the sight of them kissing, secretly, desperately, poignant with the intent for her not to find out.

She mouthed a breathless gasp.

Frank opened his eyes first, shoving Charley off of him at the sight of his pal standing in the archway. Charley whined and wiped at his mouth. 

When he noticed Mary, the same paralyzing shock rocked his body, leaving him statuesque.

"I…" she began.

Charley interrupted her. He sat up straight, mumbling in a wavering voice, "I...I think you should leave."

"I think I should, too," Mary replied.

  
  



	2. the confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the next morning.

"You wanna tell me what the  _ fuck  _ happened last night?" Mary seethed.

Charley stood in the doorway, his hands jammed into the front pockets of his jeans. He flinched at her tone. "Mary, I can explain--"

"First off, get your ass inside." She ushered him in and slammed the door behind them.

She knew this conversation was coming. Ever since she drifted out of the Kringas abode, a ghost floating like a plastic bag caught in the wind, she'd been preparing for this moment. The inevitable moment where Charley would sink to his knees at her feet and grovel, just like he always did. Begging for forgiveness. This time, oh, did he have some explaining to do.

She practically threw him on the couch, looming over him. Casting a shadow against the warm morning light that she didn't dare as much as mention.

"I can't believe you, Charley."

"Mary--"

She paced. "--No, I really can't! Really, Kringas? God, I don't know if I hate or I’m relieved that the reason you're a shit husband is because you're a queer!"

"Don't say it like that," Charley begged. "I'm not--I don't--"

"Then what are you, Charley? Because you really have me going right now. I don't know  _ what  _ you are."

He sat upright. "This is different," he said. "You wouldn't understand."

"Why? 'Cause I'm a woman?"

"No! Because you're…" He leaned back against the couch, wiping his eyes with his palm. "I can't do this. Why did this have to happen now?"

"Because you're an idiot, that's why," Mary huffed. "Jesus H. Christ."

"Know what? Yeah, I am an idiot. Go ahead and call me a queer some more."

Mary shrunk, folding her arms. "No, Charley, I'm sorry. I didn't mean--"

"--Yes, you did. So just keep it coming."

"Charley." She rushed over and sat beside him, placing a hand on his knee. "I...I'm sorry."

He scoffed, turning away from her. "What for?"

"I panicked and--and it's just a lot to process."

He avoided her eyes like the plague. Why did he close off like this? Was it so hard to at least  _ look  _ at her?

"I'm sure this has all been quite troubling for  _ you _ ," Charley said.

"Okay, you know what?"

"Yeah, I do know what. See? This is why I can't fucking tell you anything, Mary! You make it all about you and lose your shit!" He brushed her hand off of his knee, bringing his own to his temple. "I mean, geez…"

Mary sat upright. Her eyes glazed over like water at its freezing point, icy and completely lost upon realizing what she'd said.

"Why, Charley?" she asked, meekly. "Why did it have to be Frank?"

Charley shook his head. For a moment, he looked in disbelief, but that disbelief quickly succumbed to a condescending expression of pain that brought tears to the corners of Mary's eyes.

"Mary, haven't you grown up yet?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short chapter tonight. charley's cover is blown, but once again he's roasting the fuck outta mary and making her reconsider her hatred, like ya do. frank isn't as outspoken as charley when it comes to these things, though.
> 
> have a good night everyone, and happy holidays!


	3. quiet isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mary flynn and her innerworkings.

Mary loved to read, which is partly why she enjoyed her career as an author (to the extent of which one  _ can  _ enjoy fruitless labor, of course). She liked to occupy herself with things that weren't necessarily true, or moral, or possible for her to achieve. This was therapeutic. 

This method of escapism often wove its way into her daily life; notably, her social relations, whether those relationships be platonic, romantic, sexual, or familial.

She daydreamed an awful lot. Sitting on the bus, staring out the window as her head rattled against the glass, she liked to imagine herself somewhere else. As someone else. A mysterious traveler finding love in an unlikely place. On rough days, she was a princess in a tower awaiting her knight in shining armor. Although embarrassingly childish, she found the latter to be her most prevalent fantasy. She dreaded the very thought of slipping into that lonely, lonely space, yet she did it anyways almost daily.

At that point, it wasn't fantasy. It was a cry for help.

Mary had a schedule that she adhered to like a gnat to fly paper. She'd wake up, brush her teeth, then drink her coffee. Then she'd read, drink more coffee, and have a smoke or two. Then she'd eat, regret how much she ate, and remember to shower. She'd stand up against the frigid shower wall and dream about being held by somebody. Somebody with a capital S. Then she'd dry off, get more coffee--really, vodka with a bit of coffee mixed in to make her feel less like an alcoholic, and then she'd forget she brushed her teeth already, so she'd do it again. Then another smoke. She really just needed to be held. More coffee. The days blurred together and all she could recognize is she is so, so very alone. Then more alcohol, until everything became fuzzy and it was time to sleep.

No one understood the extent of Mary's apparent delusions. They were overshadowed by Frank's constant successions and Charley's domestic (and public) outbursts.

But she liked it that way. No one else needed to know what went on in her head. No one else needed to know her most embarrassing secret that she'd kept since October of 1957.

She remembered the morning she laid eyes on Frank Shepard for the first time as vividly as if she were there. 

The best and worst day of her life.

The cold air had bitten her face like piranhas to a carcass. She trudged up to the rooftop of her apartment, up the obscenely cramped stairwell, just like the rest of New York City to see Sputnik. She hadn't been expecting company; most of her neighbors were druggies or college kids who never showed their faces much.

When she swung open the door, she found two men sitting on a picnic blanket, gazing up at the stars.

Normally, upon discovering she was alone with two men she'd never seen before, she would've turned and ran. But she stayed for a moment, surveying them cautiously as she stepped forward.

The curly-haired one noticed her first. He jumped, nudging his friend.

"Frank--Uh, hey there! I'm Charley Kringas. This is my pal Frank Shepard." He smiled.

Mary blinked. "Oh, um, hi. I'm Mary. I was just, um...Coming to see the…"

The other man sat up and met her gaze.

And it was just like those turning points in the novels she'd read, or when the princess's longing stare out the window of her tower is interrupted by her knight in shining armor galloping through the clearing on a sturdy, white horse.

Tunnel vision crept around her view. Her arms dropped to her sides; the tingling sensations in her fingers and toes were almost too much to bear.

He had bright blue eyes, and soft brunet hair that bounced in a small curl over his forehead. His lips parted ever so slightly at the sight of her in the doorway. They were a beautiful shade of pink. She then remembered someone telling her in school that the color of a man’s lips were simultaneously the color of his tip, so...A bit of a mood killer.

Her cheeks burned bright red. Thank God they didn’t hear that. 

She didn't want to name the feeling bubbling in her chest, spewing projectiles through her limbs, out of fear of calling it something unabashedly stupid. So she just thought of it as  _ The  _ feeling.

The moment she knew that her heart belonged to Frank Shepard, and always would.

She turned and flew back down the flight of stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> doing shorter chapters + less editing = less overthinking, more writing! yay! here's a bonus chapter because i got plenty done tonight and i'd love to share more of what i have. stay safe!


	4. morning hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> frank shepard gets a call.

Frank Shepard was pouring his second cup of coffee when the phone rang. He looked up at the receiver perched on the wall with disdain. Every morning, every afternoon, and every evening, the tone beckoned him to it. All he wanted was peace and quiet. Was that too much to ask for? Its screeching song made his throbbing temples threaten to burst in one freak explosion of blood and fireworks.

_I can never catch a break, can I?_

He set down the mug and fit the pot back into the machine.

_BRRRRRING, BRRRRING._

“Good Lord, I’m coming,” he huffed aloud. He grabbed the phone and wedged it between his ear and his shoulder, picturing a dumb broad of a secretary or a jolly conman like Joe Josephson on the other end. “You’ve reached Franklin Shepard, how may I help you?”

A choked sob came from the other line. “She’s so angry!”

“Charley?” Frank asked. His eyes widened; just when he’d started to forget the tragedy that was the night prior (with the aid of enough booze to intoxicate a busload of Russians), of course Charley had to call. Frank was on the verge of ghosting just about everyone. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay! Mary’s gonna fucking kill me!”

“Literally or figuratively?”

“How the hell are you making jokes right now?” Charley whimpered. 

Frank could picture his little tear stained face, his nose red from being shoved into the crook of his elbow, his eyes reddened and weary. Poor thing.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m...hungover. A little drunk, if I’m honest.”

“I hate you, Frank,” Charley rambled in a wavering voice. “I never should have let you kiss me. I never should have let anything go this far! As far as I’m concerned, everything is ruined.”

“Nothing is ruined! Mary can keep a secret!”

“Mary would hit me with her car if she could now. I deserve it.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I deserve to be torn to bloody pieces and splayed out like a goddamn whore.”

“Stop with this nonsense, Charley!” Frank demanded, although his own hands were beginning to tremble. “E--Everything’s fine. Mary won’t tell anybody, I’m sure of it. And I’m sure she’ll forgive us after a few drinks.”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“I’ve heard all I want to hear.”

“Frank--”

“Nothing needs to change. We...It’s fine. Maybe this will be good for us.”

Charley sniffled. He paused, before mumbling, “I need to see you.”

“I’m home and the front door’s open.”

“Beth?”

“At work.”

“Frankie?”

“Daycare. What kind of a visit should I anticipate?”

“The usual. I need to forget last night ever happened.”

“I can do that.”

“I’ll see you in fifteen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are happening! these two are quite stubborn.
> 
> merry christmas eve to everyone celebrating!


	5. sickening juxtaposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mary and charley have very different mornings.

Mary gripped her elbows and stared out the window. She was a princess in a tower, and she’d just watched her knight in shining armor be devoured whole by the fearsome dragon perched above her cell, horse and all. Turns out, nobody was to be trusted. Not even the ones trusted to come to the rescue.

Yesterday’s whole ordeal felt like a memory. Like something that happened in a nightmare.

Queer. Charley. Frank.

Those words didn’t go together at all.

She didn’t like to say them all in the same sentence. Not with the context that she now knew.

Meanwhile, Charley straddled Frank’s leg, grinding against his thigh with desperation. He grabbed the undersides of Frank’s thigh, pulling himself against it for more friction. 

Mary had no idea.

Frank had hardly gotten him in the door before Charley grabbed him by the collar, begging for anything to take the heartache away. Frank’s head was pounding too rigorously to get any sort of pounding done himself, but he couldn’t pretend as though he didn’t feel the same--despite the obvious betrayal to Mary Flynn for the third time in the past forty-eight hours. This is just what they did. It was a little shameful, and felt entirely wrong, but it was addicting. Their reputations on the line made it even more so.

Frank had sat down on the couch, pulling Charley into his lap. He kissed him. The same fleeting kisses they’d shared moments before disaster the night prior.

Mary felt more hollow than she had in months. Years, maybe. The bottle of scotch in front of her only taunted her. _Look, it’s the ugly bitch who turned her pals into homosexuals. What a fucking joke._

Charley’s hips kept a steady rhythm, bucking forward quickly and retreating slowly, keeping a knee wedged between Frank’s thighs. Thank God they were still in their pajama bottoms, were Charley’s thoughts on the matter. After a moment of senseless thigh humping, Charley spread his legs further and sunk down as far as he could straddling Frank’s thigh, and rocked his knee against Frank’s groin. The latter grabbed his chin and stared into his bleary eyes for a moment, wrapping his other hand around his waist to hold him close.

_Why do I bother?_ Mary asked herself. _How many other people know what these two have been up to?_

She felt sick, as though someone were kicking her in the stomach.

Charley whined. Frank let go of his chin and let Charley rest his head on his shoulder. Charley continued to rut against him, little murmurs of noise escaping his throat in rhythm with his hips. Frank kissed his neck. His skin was oh so soft there, in the divot of his collarbone to the stretch of skin taut around his adam’s apple. In his horny hormonal mind, Frank wanted nothing more than to leave marks all along his neck. His rational brain reminded him how stupid of an idea that was considering the trouble they were in already.

_I can’t believe Frank and Charley have been right under my nose this whole time._

“I’m close,” Charley breathed.

Frank lifted his leg as far as he could beneath Charley’s weight. “Cum for me.”

Mary felt tears poking at the corners of her eyes. _I feel so fucking stupid!!!_

Charley tightened his arms around Frank’s back. His nails dug into his shirt; if they were any longer, they would’ve left indents in Frank’s skin.

_No. This isn’t my fault._

Charley cried out a string of obscenities all ending in _uck_ as he peaked, his face buried against Frank’s shoulder. The latter pressed his elbow against the back of the couch and sat upright, bucking his hips against Charley’s knee until he came, too.

_Yes, it is. You’re a terrible friend. What happened is your fault. You’ve made them female-repulsed!_

He groaned, kissing Charley through his high. The other was quiet, timid even, now that his thirst had been quenched.

Mary downed the rest of her scotch and turned away from the window. It was time to shower.

Then time for more coffee, more scotch, and then another teeth brushing. Then a smoke. Then more alcohol. Then a smoke. Then more alcohol. Then a smoke. Then more alcohol.

Charley pressed his forehead against Frank’s, breathing quietly. Frank kissed his nose. “I told you you’d be okay.”

“Mhm,” Charley said, shrugging.

Frank kissed his nose again. “We’re gonna be fine.”

“Hope so,” Charley replied. 

The anxiety was beginning to set in again. That stupid fuzzy feeling in his brain.

Charley looked down between them and giggled. “Hope you’ve got an extra pair of pants for me. And boxers..”

Frank furrowed his brow. “It was your idea to screw,” he huffed.

“I know. I’m dutifully unprepared, per usual. In my defense, neither of us stripped.”

“That’s...fair. You’re lucky you can almost  _ swim  _ in my clothes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's the obligated horny! don't mind the spam posting, this is the last chapter I have prewritten. I'm hoping to write more tonight.


	6. another timeline, perhaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mary recalls an old memory.

Mary was twenty-one at the time, as were Frank and Charley. This was a time when the old friends lived out their strange, dreamy twenties; when Frank and Charley were still new to New York City and took every opportunity they possibly could. Of course, this led to Frank's first few heartbreaks and Charley's first STDs, but left Mary with some fond memories to look back on.

It was cliché, Mary remembered. Cliché as all hell. But it didn’t matter. Nothing did back then. At the time, their troubles were paying rent, not performing for the public, or upholding any sort of reputation. This was the time to bang on doors, to be loud and free and twenty-one. Casualties were counted at the furthest possible date. Living out the teenage dream was the priority.

Mary and Frank were prancing along, arms linked, through Central Park. Snow rested its weary flakes on the branches of the trees around them, as more fell from the sky and settled on their eyelashes. The haze glowed with light from the street posts dotting the pathway. 

It was the week before Christmas; Charley was back home in Chicago, spending Hanukkah with his folks. Frank and Mary were flying over to see them the next day (which would be Mary’s first visit--but another tale). So, that night, it was just those two. Alone.

“Lord, it’s freezing!” Mary giggled. The jacket she’d worn was no match for Jack Frost. 

Snow crunched beneath her boot in agreement.

Frank scoffed. “I told you Charley had an old coat for you back at our place. You should’ve said something!”

“Please, I wouldn’t fit into anything of Charley’s if I were cremated.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Frank said. “You look great.”

“Never said I didn’t,” Mary corrected.

Terribly awkward silence.

“Uh, you wanna get a bite to eat?” Frank asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

Mary grimaced.

_ Men. _

“Sure thing,” she said.

“Sorry, I’m...I’m off tonight.”

“How so?”

Frank stopped walking. He turned to her and wedged his hands into his coat pockets. “Mary,” he breathed, “can I...ask you something?”

Mary’s heart began to thud.

_ Oh. He hates me and he never wants to hang out with me again. As a matter of fact, he’s asking me politely to move from our complex and drown myself in the Hudson. Can do! _

“Yeah,” she said. Her voice came out as an embarrassingly low mumble.

“Can...Can I take you out on a date? Now?”

Mary thanked the stars that her cheeks were already rosy.

She took a double take. “I’m...sorry?”

“Shit, I--”

“--No, no! I’d love to!” she said. “I just wasn’t sure I heard you correctly. No one’s...Well, no one’s ever really saw me  _ that  _ way before.”

“How come?” Frank asked. “You’re the loveliest girl I know.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“No, really!” 

He grabbed her hand and held it in his. Hers were like ice. Mary could hardly stand to look in his eyes-- _ God  _ he was handsome. So incredibly handsome. Even his little smirk made her weak in the knees.

This was a truly amazing moment.

_ If only Charley were here to see this! _

“Can I ask you another question?”

_ I don’t want pizza, honestly. _

“Shoot.”

“Can I kiss you?” Frank asked.

His tone was so innocent. His eyes glistened in the street post lights--the swoop of hair over his forehead was matted into a wet clump by the snow.

Mary’s eyes widened. “Of course.”

Frank took her chin in her hands and brought their lips together, kissing her quickly before grabbing her arm and taking off. Mary screamed, laughing like a maniac as Frank pulled her down the path. A few strangers made a face at their dreamy, dissociative PDA, but it didn’t matter to either of them.

Nothing mattered back then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapters under 1000 words are ORGASMIC writer's block has been found dead in her home
> 
> love you all, to whoever is reading this! I hope you're enjoying the holiday season!


	7. car thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what was frank shepard thinking?

“I’ll see you later, Charley,” Frank said as Charley climbed back into his car.

Charley huffed, brushing his hand on his thigh. He was wearing Frank’s sleeping pants. “Can’t I stay a bit longer?”

“No. I’ve got errands to run and Beth is expecting me to be home alone.”

“Errands?”

Frank kissed Charley’s forehead. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“Promise?”

Frank glanced back at him. “Mhm.”

“Okay.”

“Just...Bring me back my clothes next time you’re here? Please?”

“Of course,” Charley giggled. “This won’t happen again.”

“Good. I love you, Charley.”

“I love you too, Frank.”

Charley watched Frank run up his front steps to go grab his keys.

Frank felt like shit. Complete and utter shit.

What kind of a man sleeps with his best friend? What kind of a man lets his other best friend find out? What would Beth do to him if she knew? Or Evelyn, that psychopath?

He gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. The radio was but a muffled noise in the background of his thoughts.

_ Do you feel like a fucking man? _

He blinked hard. 

_ Fuck you. _

So what if he liked to indulge from time to time? Charley was someone he trusted, and God knows he could use the dick sometimes. And it wasn’t like Beth was particularly interested in satisfying his fantasies, either. She was rigid, and cold to match. Not much of a romantic, but a follower; Frank didn’t mind being a leader, but there was no resistance in anything they did. No challenge. No fun.

Just boredom.

Charley’s middle name was brat. On occasion, he’d demand Frank to do wild things he’d never even considered doing with him before--yet he executed them without protest each time. Charley was experienced in a strange but innocent way. Frank just couldn’t say no to him. He didn’t want to.

Frank always thought himself to fancy skinny blondes who went to church each Sunday, who were pure and perfect and virginal and imported straight from cookie-cutter suburbia. Yet, here he was, falling for the little curly-haired Jewish man who only attended synagogue while visiting his family back in Chicago. 

But don’t tell his church-going, skinny, Southern blonde that.

_ Good Lord, I’m screwing the local socialist,  _ Frank suddenly thought.  _ God forbid Mary tells anyone. I love you, Charley, but you need to learn to shut that mouth of yours sometimes. _

Mary. That poor, poor girl.

He figured it was time to go give his own apologies after Charley’s little freak out that morning. Mary probably didn’t want to see him. If that was the case, this was purely for his own conscience. To feel a little better about what he did and continued to do.

_ Remember when you had willpower, you horny mutt? _

He shook his head, staring out the windshield of his car. A few groups of people milled about on the sidewalks. Taxis bustled out into the street and sped down the road.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” Frank mumbled to himself.

He prayed Mary had drunk enough not to smell Charley’s cologne on him when he came through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> filler chapter for tonight. frank seems just as conflicted as mary and charley, huh?  
> merry christmas everyone :)  
> also, if I made a writing discord, would anyone be interested in joining🤔🤔🤔
> 
> goodnight everyone :D


	8. confrontation (again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> frank shepard says he's sorry.

Mary swung open the door with a soda in her hand, staggering drunk. It was no doubt filled mostly with vodka. 

Her apartment reeked of liquor due to all the times she’d tripped and smashed a glass of nearly pure alcohol onto the carpet. It was a nauseating scent. Almost enough to give you a buzz as you stepped through the door.

Frank blinked at her in her unfortunate state. “Um. Hi.”

“Well well well, if it isn’t Mr. Shepard. My favorite homosexual!”

“Mary!” Frank nearly shoved her inside, slamming the door behind them. “You better pray nobody heard that.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? I don’t think straight people make out with their pals. Do they, Frankie?”

Her eyes were bleary and unfocused. She must’ve been going at it for  _ hours  _ now.

The nickname Frankie made him think of his son, his poor little son who could never know about any of this. He could’ve keeled over and puked at the thought.

“I was coming here to apologize for that,” Frank said. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, and I just--”

“Don’t lie to me, Shepard,” Mary spat. “Charley told me  _ everything _ .”

“Everything?”

“Yeah, that all my friends are backstabbing  _ queers _ . Fuck, I could kill you for that.”

She moved to the couch and flopped back onto it, nearly dumping her drink over herself. She sighed. “Well, let’s get to it then, Shepard.”

“What?”

“Beg.”

“Beg for what?”

“My forgiveness!” Mary said. “What, you think I’m just gonna forget what happened?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Get on your knees.”

“Mary Flynn! I can’t believe--”

“--I was kidding, you tight bastard,” she laughed. “Good God.”

“It wasn’t funny. I’m not asking for forgiveness, I just want to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” She scoffed, sitting upright. “What  _ are  _ you sorry for?”

“...Exposing you to my lifestyle.”

“You’re so cute,” Mary said. “God, I can’t believe this. I can’t believe either of you.”

“And I’m not asking you to, I just don’t want this to massacre our friendship. I couldn’t live with myself.” 

“Relax, big man. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

Frank nodded. “Then that’s all I have to say.”

“Well, you never were good with words. I gotta hand it to Charley.”

“Charley’s the luckiest bastard I know.”

“Clearly, considering he was able to steal you away from me,” she scoffed.

“What?”

“Enough to turn you into a homo. Remember when we hooked up, Frankie?”

Frank sighed and glanced away. He looked like an idiot, considering nobody else was in the apartment. “Yes, I do.”

“Wasn’t that fun?”

“While it lasted, sure.”

“We should do it again.”

“Mary,” he warned, glaring at her.

“What? How different could it be than screwing Charley? He’s hardly a man, I’m hardly a woman.”

Frank moved back to the door. “I’m already ruining my marriage. I can’t possibly ruin what I have with Charley.”

“I think you’re just being a prude. I mean, who knows how many people  _ he’s  _ screwing. You know what they say about queers and their sex habits. Nothing’s sacred to you people.”

“And yet you’re the one coming onto me.”

He swung open the door. 

What a catastrophe of a meet-up. He never should’ve come. Even a phone call with drunk Mary would’ve been better than this.

Mary slurred, “C’mon, pal. Don’t go.”

“No, clearly you’ve got some things to think about. And I’m not speaking to you until you’ve sobered up.”

“Am I the one wrong here?”

He stepped into the complex’s hallway and shut the door behind him.

_ This is the last time I apologize to Mary Flynn. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am back >:) have some disaster mary as a treat!

**Author's Note:**

> here's a little something I wrote last night I'm planning on expanding on! yay for me being active!! so once again charley and frank are on that gay shit, who knows how mary's gonna take this :0 I'm also planning on updating mind and body soon, and I have two full length fics that have been in the works, one for almost a year now. hope you enjoyed, and feel free to reach out to me, I'm always here to talk :D


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